Sober
by Watched You Die
Summary: Anything I say could give it away, so please just read. Rated M for adult language and themes.


Title: Sober  
Author: Watched You Die  
Disclaimer: I own nothing.  
Rating: M, for just about everything.  
A/N: This took _so_ long to write, and it proved to be difficult. It literally took weeks (maybe even months), and I re-wrote and re-wrote and re-wrote. This one really means something to me. This is majorly OOC & AU. But it's been in my head for a while and I really wanted to write something like this. I know this is kind of twisted and really different than anything that would ever happen on the show, I guess I just have a twisted mind. Please don't review if you're just going to flame, I worked hard on this.

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"I love you," she softly whispered into his ear.

He stroked her bare back, sending shivers up her spine.

"You can't, we went over this," he told her, cutting off anything else she was going to say by capturing her mouth in a kiss. He felt a tear roll down her cheek, but he didn't bother to wipe it away.

She knew what they were doing was wrong, and she knew what they had been doing every night for the past three weeks was wrong. She didn't care. She had made it clear to him that he wanted him, but he didn't want her. This was as close as she could get to him, and she would do whatever it took to keep this relationship going, even if it meant putting herself through hell. It was such a fucked up relationship, if you could even call it a relationship.

He placed his arms on her shoulders and pushed her off of him, and then rolled out of her bed. He searched for his jeans in the dark, and upon finding them, quickly gathered his phone and wallet off her nightstand and put his shirt on, then turned to face her.

"Will I see you again tomorrow?" she said in a low, quiet voice, propping herself up with her elbow one one of the pillows, covering herself with the blanket.

"I don't know. Barbra Jean wants to have a big talk about something, and that always leads to me apologizing for everything, then to..." his voice trailed off into the darkness.

"Okay..."

"Bye," he forced out, and quietly opened her door, not wanting to wake their children.

Reba rolled over on her back and stared at the ceiling, silent tears pouring down her cheeks. She couldn't believe she let herself go on this long, and she couldn't believe she kept doing this with him. Torturing herself, that's what she was doing. Pure torture. And for what? It was the closest she could get to him. He didn't want a relationship with her, he didn't love her, he just wanted the body that his wife could never achieve. She turned over and looked at her alarm clock, 4:47am. No use in trying to sleep. She pulled the covers back and rolled out of bed, and headed to her bathroom. As she turned the light on, she caught her reflection in the mirror. It was not pleasant. Brock had wanted her dress up and put on as much makeup as possible, and she did. Consenting with his every request. It was sick, what she would do for him. And for nothing in return. Her mascara ran down her cheeks, and was completely smudged. The bags under her eyes aged her at least ten years. Her once fiery red hair was slowly turning grey. A fragile frame aged with misery.

She turned on shower and slowly stepped in, closing her eyes and tilting her head back to let the water wash away everything she had just done. She stood still for a moment, and without bring her head up, reached out for her shaving razor. Once she found it, she hesitated. Did she really want to do this? She thought about the consequences, and how she had struggled to become cut-free. Did she really want to ruin all of her progress over some stupid guy? She decided she did. She ran her razor went over her smooth skin, leaving a long incision upon her foream. She gasped; the first cut was always the worst. As she watched the blood pour, she made another incision running parallel to it, and felt a sense of relief. The hatred, the hurt, the anger, the sadness she was feeling poured down her wrist. She slowly made more incisions, careful to be slow enough to cause herself as much pain as possible. When she was finished, she put her razor back on the ledge where she had picked it up, and looked at her wrist. What had she done? The blood pouring out the cuts came as easily as the tears flowing down her cheeks. She took the showerhead off of it's holder and ran the water over her cuts to clear the blood before turning the shower off and getting out. She was careful to select a crimson colored towel so if any blood did get on her towel, nobody would notice. She walked into her bedroom and went to her closet, and searched for the Ace bandage she had used when she last cut herself. Since she hadn't used it in so long, it was difficult to find. After shifting some boxes and launching several items behind her to clear her closet, she finally found it and wrapped it around her wrist, tucking the loose end into one of the wraps. There. Now she could say she hurt her wrist and not feel guilty about lying, since the Ace bandage would lead to believe that that it was muscle injury. She dressed herself and went downstairs to make breakfast for the kids, since they would be up soon.

Jake was the first to awaken. When the scent of pancakes traveled up to his room, he came running down the stairs and grabbed Reba around the waist into a big bear hug that caught her off-guard, yet made her smile. It was these kinds of things and that made her realize that just because Brock didn't love her, that didn't mean she wasn't loved by _someone_.

"Jakie, honey, can you set the table please? Breakfast will be ready in a few minutes," she asked.

"Sure," he said, and proceeded to the cabinet where the plates and glasses were.

Once it was ready, Reba sent Jake to go wake up the others, and a few minutes later, they sleepily walked in and sat at their place at the table. Reba was in no mood to talk, so the kitchen was quiet as she place three pancakes on everyone's plate, and then took the only empty seat and put three on her plate. Nobody talked; they were either too tired or had nothing to say today. Reba was usually the one to initiate conversation, but she didn't have the heart to today. Van finished his breakfast first, then proceeded back up to his and Cheyenne's room to shower, and Kyra finished next, and went up to her room as well, most likely to go back to sleep. Jake was after, and after he had put his plate in the sink, he ran into the living room and turned on the TV to catch his favorite Saturday morning cartoons. Reba noticed Cheyenne eating slower than usual, and knew that either she wasn't feeling well, or she wanted to talk to Reba privately. Reba knew it was the latter, but insisted on trying with the former first.

"You've barely eaten anything, are you feeling okay?" Reba asked.

Cheyenne didn't respond right away, instead she looked down at her plate, and twirled her fork into the syrup.

"Who left here at 4:30 this morning?" she asked, finally looking up.

Reba panicked. "Um, nobody. It was just me coming back inside," Reba lied. _Shit_, she thought, _now she's going to ask what I was doing outside at 4:30 in the morning_.

"What were you doing outside at 4:30 this morning?" Cheyenne asked, just as she had predicted.

"Well, I...," Reba struggled for words, "...I was...getting the paper," she finished, somewhat lamely.

"C'mon. You don't even read the paper."

"But I --" Reba sighed. She knew she was a bad liar, and she could trust Cheyenne. Maybe just not with the whole truth.

"Fine. It was your father who left this morning." Reba told her.

"Did you sleep with him?"

"No," she lied. She hated lying to her daughter, but couldn't bear the face the chaos this would cause if anyone knew.

"Then why was he here?"

"He just needed someone to talk to, and that's all we did. Okay? Can we drop this now?"

Reba was growing more nervous by the second. She didn't like keeping secrets, but this was one that could not get out. Ever.

"Fine," Cheyenne said, and got up and put her plate in the sink and was out of the kitchen before Reba could say something else.

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I know I'm not the best writer out there, but I really did put a lot of effort into this so I would totally appreciate it if you could review.


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